


Bonfire Soul, Bonfire Heart

by alonecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alonecas/pseuds/alonecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mary Winchester's death, Dean and Castiel rekindle their old friendship only to find that more problems were to surface than they'd expect. A secret love forms, a love that Dean won't allow and a love that Castiel refuses to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Refound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rielle aka dreamerdean](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rielle+aka+dreamerdean).



PROLOGUE

The phone rang once.  
It rang twice.  
It rang three times before getting an answer on the other end. Mrs Novak tossed her dark hair over her shoulder busily, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she readjusted the order of her sons packed lunches. Gabriel, Balthazar, Anna, Michael, Castiel. 

“Hello, Claire Novak speaking.” Her tone was professional and business like as she frowned thoughtfully, reopening the lunch boxes with the intent of adding a chocolate bar to each of the carefully arranged meals.  
“John?” Her hand faltered, freezing as she placed the lid to Balthazar’s lunchbox on the kitchen counter, her brows furrowing in confusion.  
“Slow down, I can’t hear y- what? ...N...no..” The lid was sent clattering across the smooth marble as her hand flew up to her mouth in horror, her eyes previously blue with thought now wracked with the burden of the news being delivered down the telephone line. This wasn’t happening. It was a Thursday morning..it was 6.47am and the morning dew was still lining the grass delicately, the sun’s rays reflecting off of it in an almost dazzling manner. There was no way this was happening.

But it was. And when the other side of the line hung up, she stood there in stunned silence, staring down at the now trivially balanced lunches laid out in front of her. 

 

 

CHAPTER 1

School was unnervingly quiet that day and he had no idea why. As far as he was aware, there’d been no party last night that could have left an unsavoury taste in the mouths of those popular enough to be deemed worthy of a proper party. So what was it? The fact that the wind was blowing 0.8mph stronger than it was yesterday? Because it was.  
But Castiel’s mum always told him that he was the only once to notice silly little things like that, so it couldn’t be the wind.  
His eyes flickered up from the book he was reading to study his peers absently in an attempt to understand the uncomfortable silence. He liked to understand things.  
But there was nothing to see. The younger girls were sat making daisy chains in a circle, like normal. The younger boys were kicking a football against a wall, like normal. The group of girls who always read quizzes aloud from magazines were sat reading quizzes aloud from magazines and the group of boys who always blatantly smoked were blatantly smoking. 

He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as he did so as his attention focused on the less familiar figure slumped against the bins, just to the right of the girls making daisy chains. He was shadowed so it was hard to tell how old the figure was, but the defiantly spiked hair and the upturned collar of what Castiel presumed to be some kind of jacket told him it was a boy, probably older than he was younger. But it was the way he held himself, the defensive hunch of his shoulders and the aggressive way his legs were splayed apart were the reason he caught Castiel’s attention.  
I should do something. He thought, closing his book distractedly as he watched the boy’s hands move up to grab the sides of his head slowly, his head sinking as he did so.  
Shoving the small paperback into his back pocket, Castiel forced himself to his feet and began to steadily make his way towards the other boy. He’d probably got into a fight or got a bad grade on a test, he reassured himself as the darkness surrounding the other figure began to become lighter and lighter, the shadows revealing a chiselled jaw clasped desperately in shaking hands.  
This was not a bad test result.

“Excuse me?” He bit down on his lip nervously, his hands fumbling for comfort and only finding each other. Castiel always seemed to remember how bad he was at talking to others when it was too late. The boy shifted slightly, his grip on his own head loosening as he lifted it wearily, his eyes lifting to meet Cas’s. It was not an impressed look.  
“What about the way I'm sat says ‘come and talk to me’?” He challenged gruffly, his angry attempt at telling the other boy to leave him alone backfiring entirely. His red-swollen eyes watched in silent annoyance as the stranger proceeded to sit uncomfortably in front of him.  
“Well, uh, you were upset and I thought a good act of solidarity would be to join you and assure you that your sadness is unwarranted.” Castiel smiled gently, the blank look on the others faces telling him that his words had been misunderstood. That or the boy hadn't understood a word.  
“I'm Castiel.” He tried again, frowning slightly as the haze of confusion didn’t lift from the boys face.  
“Castiel?”  
“Yes, that’s what I said.” He was confused now. Either this boy was incredibly stupid and couldn't hold a conversation, in which case he deserved his apparent misery, or he was so distressed that words meant nothing. The perplexed green haze of his eyes convinced Castiel that the stupidity was probably the most likely of his assumptions, but both of his predictions were wrong.  
“I know you. You live next door to me.” 

The second the words left his mouth, the realisation set in. Castiel felt his eyes widen with surprise, his breath hitching slightly as the once unfamiliar face familiarised right before him, the uneven speckling of freckles suddenly becoming undeniably recognisable. This wasn’t just another stranger sat limply against a bin, he was –

“Hello, Dean.” The smile was genuine now, on each of their faces as the memories whirring through their heads visibly cleansed any temporary distress. Memories of scratched knees on hot summer evenings: of muddy shoes racing through soggy autumn leaves. Shivering hands hurling snowballs and chocolate covered mouths at Easter. Memories they’d long since forgotten about. A friend they’d long since forgotten about.  
They sat for a second, each taking in the impact of the new discovery and the newly developed face they saw in front of them. Gone were the chubby, innocent cheeks of childhood, replaced with beautifully defined cheekbones and unevenly bearded chins. They certainly weren’t children any more.  
“I didn’t know you went here.” Castiel prompted; genuinely surprised that he hadn’t recognised the lightly freckled features of his old friend before. They were quite distinctive after all.  
“Oh, right, yeah I had to retake my last year but my old school wouldn’t have me so Dad sent me here...” Dean paused, his eyes moving from Castiel’s to his surrounding, as if realising all at once that he was in school and not in his own private bubble.

“Look, now’s not really the best time...” He studied Castiel thoughtfully, taking in his well presented appearance and the clean scent that seemed to be radiating from his body.

“Do you have a pen?” Dean cocked his head slightly, a small smile flitting across his lips and lighting his features as he asked the question. It was then that Castiel remembered; Dean Winchester always had a plan, always had the upper hand and always had a buried motive that he kept to himself that no one was allowed to question. And so he obediently handed him a pen, keeping his lips tightly pressed together in the hopes that all would be explained. It was, as Dean took the pen only to grab Castiel’s wrist, pulling him closer and beginning to scrawl something onto his wrist, his tongue sticking out of his mouth smugly as he did so.  
“Ring that number tonight. We can catch up then.” With an almost manic grin, he bounced up onto his feet and began to walk away from Castiel, leaving an almost enthralled hum in Cas’s chest as he did so.

“I’m keeping the pen!” He shouted over his shoulder, not looking back. If he had looked back, he’d have seen the small smile he’d left on the others lips and the way his eyes were unable to leave the motion of Dean’s back walking briskly away from him.


	2. Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A phonecall turns into a little more than a phonecall

CHAPTER 2

Tossing his school bag into the corner of his room, Castiel allowed himself to flop wearily onto his bed, breathing in the relaxing smell of sleep and letting his body sink into the comfort of his blankets. This was the only thing that made school worthwhile; the relief he felt when his joints could relax into the warmth of his bed at the end of the day. He could think about nothing, he could let his mind roam free and peaceful.  
But that was on a normal day, and today hadn’t been normal. 

He forced himself to roll onto his back, his sleeve falling back off of his arm as he did so and revealing the scratchy handwriting of Dean Winchester. Castiel’s eyes lit up as he held his arm closer to his face, his finger absently tracing the blotched blue ink staining his skin. The unusual internal hum was back as he felt his cheeks flush involuntarily, his eyes lifting slightly to retrace the numbers again visually, carefully, savouring each number as if it were a delicacy. And it was, for each number had been pressed into his skin by Dean, the best friend he’d lost at the age of thirteen but now, miraculously, was back. 

He used the arm that wasn’t tainted with Dean’s handwriting to pull his phone out of his pocket and carefully dial the numbers from his wrist. Sniffing idly, he placed the ringing phone to his ear and shut his eyes tightly, almost praying for Dean not to pick up.

But the crackle interrupting the fourth ring caused his heart to speed up ever so slightly, the realisation of what was happening causing his hands to moisten with nervous sweat.  
“Cas?” The voice on the other end of the phone wasn’t the one he’d spoken with earlier that day. Well, technically speaking it was, but the playful tone that had left him behind at the bins had now been replaced with a wary husk.   
“Dean? What’s wrong?” He sat up-right, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and taking the few steps it took to reach his window, pushing his curtains apart to see if he could see into the Winchester household for any signs of distress. Squinting, he saw nothing. Three windows were glowing with light in the house opposite him, indicating that there was activity in the three rooms, but nothing out of the ordinary was happening.  
“It’s my mum. She..she, uh...ah, son of a bitch.” The discomfort and genuine heartbreak reflected in his voice caused Castiel’s eyebrows to furry with worry, his eyes focusing steadily on the house.

“Dean?” He encouraged, running his free hand through his hair despairingly, remembering now how stubborn the other boy could be, how closed off to his emotions he liked to appear.  
“She’s dead.” There was an odd sort of choking sound following Dean’s shaken words causing Castiel to straighten his position in alarm, not moving his eyes from the house, slightly too stunned by this information to respond immediately. 

He’d known Mary Winchester all his life. She’d taken him to his first day of school when his own mother had been too busy to take him herself and she’d been there to hug him when it hadn’t gone very well. She’d been there to drive him to soccer and to compliment him on his slapdash paintings and kiss his scabby knees. And she was dead. And Dean was hurt. 

“Dean, come to your window.” He commanded suddenly, his words harsher than intended, but obviously working as he saw a faint figure block part of the light in one of the three illuminated windows across the street.  
“Okay. I’m coming over. Open your window and expect me there in five minutes.” He hung up abruptly, adrenaline surging through him as the idea of what he was about to do flooded his thoughts. Throwing his phone onto his bed, he shoved open his window roughly and clambered up onto the sill, the light outside still just light enough for him to see what he was doing without the aid of a torch. He managed to make his way down the drainpipe easily enough, landing awkwardly on his front lawn and having to readjust his shirt a little before jogging across the road and onto the Winchesters lawn. Looking up, he could see the white frame of Dean’s open window and hear the faint sound of AC/DC coming from inside the room. That was his target, if he could get up there.  
Without thinking, he took a running jump and managed to grip onto the ledge above the living room window, pulling himself up and making the slightly fiddly transition from halfway up the house to hauling his body up so that he could reach Dean’s windowsill. Gripping on with both hands, he pulled himself up and fell inside the room with a crash, blinking dazedly as Dean’s room came slowly into focus.

“I have a front door.” Dean muttered, hardly managing to hide the impressed tone to his voice as he stood up to help Cas off of the floor, guiding him to sit on the bed next to him.  
“I thought this way was quicker.” He admitted quietly, his eyes wandering distractedly around the uneven mess off clothes, magazines and posters littering the space around him. “And besides, I know how badly you can react to bad news.” He turned his head to look at Dean now, finding the other boy with his head in his hands and his knees pulled tightly up to his chest, rocking ever so slightly back and forth.  
“Dean?” He asked again, echoing his previous question he’d asked on the phone.  
No response.

“Dean.” His hands moved cautiously to Dean’s, pulling them gently away from his face to reveal tear stained cheeks and eyelashes so wet that they clumped together messily, highlighting the pale redness of his eyes. Dean refused to make eye contact, his lips pressed tightly together in a poor attempt to suppress the irregular stream of tears falling from his eyes. He was always the brave one, always the one who kept everything together when no one else could and always the one who kept a stern face when he had to. But he couldn’t this time.  
“It was something real bad.” He croaked, his eyes fixated somewhere nonexistent, glazed over inattentively as he seemed to think aloud. “No one knew about it. She never said a word, always said Sammy and me would be the death of her. Didn’t think we actually would be.”  
He hesitated to take a rickety breath; shaking his whole body as he did so and causing Castiel to squeeze his hands softly to reassure him that he could keep going.  
“She was pregnant. She was going to have another kid. We wanted another brother. Hell, we even made her promise to call him Adam if it were a boy. But he killed her.” His head snapped up suddenly, his eyes locking with Castiel’s as he shook his head angrily, a tear trickling furiously down his cheek as he spoke.  
“The fucking baby survived but not her. I thought doctors could stop this thing. Why couldn’t they stop it, Cas?” His whole body trembled with emotion now, his eyes iridescent with suppressed emotion as another sob overcame him, causing him to lurch forwards and bury his face in his lap, breathless cries shaking his chest.  
Swallowing hard, Castiel let one of his hands go and shifted closer to him, trying to pry his other hand free so that he could physically comfort the boy. But his hand was being gripped too tightly to be released.

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” He whispered, letting his other hand fall on Dean’s shoulder nervously, wanting to comfort him but not quite knowing how. Just the broken sounds of the other boy sent a pang of grief through his chest.  
Dean raised his head suddenly, his bleary eyes attempting to focus on Castiel’s whilst remaining too far away to communicate with. He wasn’t there, he was in a far off corner of his mind, the part where he could place the blame on himself and himself alone. Castiel knew this part of Dean well, knew that it was a place he found hard to return from.  
“I wish I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I wish it was me, I wish we never asked her for a damn baby brother, I wish she’d shouted at me more and hit me as a kid. I wish I could go and start this all over.” His words got more and more frantic as he spoke, the wild look in his eyes increasing at a worrying rate. This was unstoppable.  
“Dean, stop, listen to me-“  
“No. Don’t. Don’t try and tell me any of that ‘you couldn’t do anything’ crap. I could’ve. I could’ve been a good son; I could’ve driven Sam to soccer practise or cooked dinner when she wasn’t feeling good. You know what I did, Cas? All I did, my whole damn life, was ignore her! That’s what I do isn’t it, I-“  
His breath caught with surprise as the warm heat of Castiel’s hands cupping his face took him off guard, the shocked mist of his glazed green eyes cooling suddenly as he came back down to earth, his breathing irregular and heavy. Their faces were closer than intended, Dean’s shocked gasp hitting Castiel’s cheek lightly as he attempted to regulate his breathing unsuccessfully. 

“Listen to me.” Castiel repeated, looking sternly into the visibly calmer eyes of Dean, his voice hushed and soothing.  
“You couldn’t have done anything. If she hadn’t wanted that baby, she would have removed it from her body as soon as she could. But she did want it. She wanted you, too. She’d want you to be okay with this. She’d want you to be calm and brave for her. Can you do that?”

He nodded.

“Good. That’s good.” He smiled supportively, only now realising the almost hypnotic way Dean’s lips were parted and the oddly attractive way his eyes seemed to be desperately latching on to every word he spoke, absorbing the information frantically. His hands readjusted themselves ever so carefully against Dean’s wet skin.

“Cas” He murmured distractedly, looking at him through half closed eyes, only now realising that his hands were gripping the material of Castiel’s jumper for distressed comfort. They were so close. Both physically and emotionally, and it’d happened so fast. It was like the off switch on their friendship had never been turned off, like there’d just been a cloth covering the light and now it was removed, all at once. Light spilling into every corner of his being, parts of him he’d never even known were there suddenly becoming clearer than before. He was on show, he was alight and alive and he was just inches away from expressing it.

“Dean”, Came the belated, rugged response. It seemed the physical sensation of skin against skin had had the same effect on Castiel.  
He didn’t even ask the question; just let his instincts guide his mouth to Castiel’s in an almost desperate attempt for reassurance, for some sort of normality and comfort. He craved the touch of another. Not the rough shoving of his peers in the corridors, the careful caress that could only be gained through something as intimate as a kiss. And Castiel did not disappoint the broken boy.

He pressed his lips willingly back against Dean’s, the brackish tang of the other boys tears overwhelming his taste buds as he shut his eyes gingerly, allowing himself to accept the pressure of Dean’s lips against his. This was odd. He’d never experienced he sensation of a boys kiss, let alone the sensation of a kiss from someone like Dean Winchester. It was musky and wet but, ultimately, it was more wonderful than he could possibly imagine.

The feeling of Dean’s fingers almost burnt as they crept slowly at the hem of his shirt, tracing light circles just above his bellybutton before his hand pressed dependently into his chest, causing a small, jagged breath to escape from Castiel’s lips, and a smile to line Dean’s. It was a strangely blissful feeling, the kiss that had been unanticipated but greatly needed by both boys, and as Dean tipped his head slightly to break the kiss; his lips were soon reunited with Castiel’s. It was a magnetic attraction; a frantic need that couldn’t be left unfulfilled that overcame Castiel as he pushed Dean impulsively down onto the bed. The only thing that prevented him from doing anything else was Dean’s hands clasping his face to his, the breathless grin on his lips as he spoke distracting Castiel.

“I didn’t know you were gay.” Castiel teased, welcoming the solidity of Dean’s body underneath his, temporarily spellbound by the sweet taste of licorice Dean had left behind in his mouth.  
“I’m not” Dean muttered, looking up at the other boy through his drying eyelashes with a playful smirk. “I’m whatever the hell feels good.” He tilted Castiel’s head back with his mouth as he planted kisses in messy rows along his neck leaving little red marks behind as he did so, stopping only when he felt Castiel’s poor attempt at stubble brushing against his lips. 

“D-dean, wait.” He’d lowered his head to interrupt the undeniable pleasure Dean’s lips had been causing the skin on his neck, shifting apologetically as he did so and letting his hands rest on the surprisingly hard chest beneath him.  
“This isn’t right. You’re upset, you’re-you’re grieving, and taking advantage of a situation like that is in no one’s best interest.”  
“Whatever.” The hot glow of embarrassment shone bright in Dean’s cheeks as he shoved Castiel off of his torso angrily, sitting up as he did so and ruffling his hands through his hair with bitter annoyance. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and resumed a similar defensive position to the one he’d been in earlier, his legs apart and his head propped up in his hands.

"Dean.." Castiel scrambled off of the bed and onto the floor, the thought of losing a friend as quickly as he'd got him back not one he wanted to deliberate. He knelt shyly in front of the older boy, his hands resting on a knee each as he attempted to make eye contact once again.  
"I didn't mean it like that. I simply meant that we should wait a bit. We've just met each other again for the first time in five years, you ass. You don't think nothing's changed?" He tilted his head inquisitively, smiling slightly as Dean relented and let his right hand fall on top of Cas's, looking him in the eye reluctantly.

"You want to take it slow, huh? Okay. I can do that. You, me, the steakhouse tomorrow night. And just 'cause I'm paying don't mean that you can bat those pretty blue eyes and get everything off of the menu." He relaxed with a grin, overturning Castiel's hand and holding it loosely in his.

"You think I'm pretty?" Was the mocking response to his invitation, causing both boys to smile at each other as if the past hour hadn't happened.   
"Shut up and get your ass outta here before my Dad sees you." He leant down and kissed the other boy briefly, surprising them both with the pressure he put into it. "Now beat it." He pushed Castiel away from him lightly, tossing himself back onto the bed as he amusedly watched the slightly dazed boy begin to climb back out of the window.

He had so much more to tell that kid when he saw him next, that was for sure.


End file.
